Gordianus The Finder Omnibus (Books 1-4) (113 page)

‘Really?’

‘How else do you think he’s gone undefeated for so long, no matter how many armies Rome sends against him? Did you think that Sertorius was merely lucky? No, he has divine protection! The white fawn is a holy creature.’

‘I see,’ I said, but apparently without sufficient conviction.

‘Bah! You Romans, you’ve conquered the world but you’ve lost sight of the gods. You saw the white fawn with your own eyes, and thought it was a mere pet! But not Sertorius; that’s what makes him different.’

‘How did Sertorius acquire this amazing creature?’

‘They say some hunters came upon the fawn in a wood. She walked right up to them, and told them to take her to the great leader. The hunters brought her to Sertorius. When he bent down to nuzzle the fawn’s face, she spoke to him, in his own tongue, and he recognized the voice of Diana. The two have never parted since. The fawn follows Sertorius everywhere, or strictly speaking, he follows the fawn, since it’s she who tells him where his enemies are and what routes to take. Ah, so you saw her with your own eyes. I envy you! I’ve never seen her, only heard of her.’

‘This white fawn is quite famous then?’

‘Everyone knows of her. I keep a tavern, don’t I? I know what people talk about, and every man from the Pyrenees to the Pillars of Hercules loves the white fawn!’

Since there was only one tavern in Sucro, Mamercus Claudius had no trouble finding us the next morning. He stepped into the common room just as Eco and I were finishing our breakfast of bread and dates. So, I thought, the young man has decided to return to his grandfather after all. I smiled at him. He did not smile back.

I realized that he was still in his military garb, and that he was not alone. A small band of soldiers entered the room behind him, all wearing the same grim look.

His visit was official, then. My breakfast turned heavy in my stomach. My mouth went dry. I remembered the evil premonition I had felt about this mission from the very first, even before I met Gaius Claudius . . .

Mamercus marched up to us. His manner was soldierly and impersonal. ‘Gordianus! Quintus Sertorius has sent me to fetch you.’

Then it
was
the worst, I thought. Mamercus had betrayed me to Sertorius, and now Sertorius was having me arrested for trying to engineer the defection of an officer. I had known the mission would be dangerous; I should have been more cautious. Mamercus had made it clear the previous day that he had no intention of returning to Rome with me; why had I lingered in Sucro? I had tarried too long, a victim of my own sentimental sympathy for the old senator. And I had made Eco a victim, as well. He was only a boy – surely Sertorius would not lop his head off along with mine. But what would become of him after I was gone? Sertorius would probably conscript him as a foot soldier, I thought. Was that to be Eco’s fate, to end his days on a battlefield, fighting for a lost cause in a foreign land? If only I had left him behind in Rome!

I stood as bravely as I could and gestured for Eco to do the same. Mamercus and his men escorted us out of the tavern and marched us up the river road, back to the camp. The men’s faces looked even grimmer under the bright morning sun. Not one of them said a word.

The same grimness presided in the camp. Every face we saw was glum and silent. Where were the high spirits of the day before?

We came to Sertorius’ tent. Mamercus pulled back the flap and announced my name. He gestured for Eco and me to enter. He himself remained outside, as did the other soldiers.

The commander was alone; more alone, in fact, than I realized at first. He rose from his chair eagerly, as if he had been waiting impatiently, and strode towards us. This was not the reception I had expected.

‘Gordianus the Finder!’ he said, grasping my hand. ‘What good fortune that you should happen to be here, on such a day! Do you know why I’ve summoned you?’

‘I’m beginning to think that I don’t.’ The look on Sertorius’ face was grim but not hostile. My head started to feel noticeably more secure on my shoulders.

‘Then you haven’t heard the news yet?’

‘What news?’

‘Excellent! That means that word hasn’t yet spread to the town. One tries to keep down the gossip and rumours when something like this happens, but it’s like putting out fires in a hayfield—’

I looked about the crowded tent, at the general’s sleeping cot, the portable cabinets with maps and scrolls stacked on top, the little lamps on tripods. Something was missing . . .

‘Where is the white fawn?’ I said.

The colour drained from his face. ‘Then you
have
heard the news?’

‘No. But if there is some crisis at hand, shouldn’t your divine counsellor be with you?’

Sertorius swallowed hard. ‘Someone has stolen her, in the night. Someone has kidnapped the white fawn!’

‘I see. But why have you sent for me, Quintus Sertorius?’

‘Don’t be coy, Finder. I know your reputation.’

‘You’ve heard of me?’

Sertorius managed a wry smile. ‘I do have some idea of what goes on in Rome, even if I haven’t been there in years. I have my spies and informants there – just as Pompey and the senate no doubt have their spies in my camp. I try to keep abreast of who’s taking whom to court, who’s up and who’s down. You might be surprised how often your name comes up. Yes, I know who you are.’

‘And do you know what brought me here?’ I wanted to be absolutely certain that we understood each other.

‘Yes, yes. I asked Mamercus about you yesterday. He showed me the letter. What a silly hen his grandfather is! The Sullans can have the old fellow – I have the grandson, and he’s turned out to be worth any three of Pompey’s officers, I’ll wager! Bright, curious, clever, and wholly committed to the cause. If the powers-that-be in Rome had any sense, they’d have restored his family’s estates and tried to win Mamercus over to their side, once his father was out of the way. But the Sullans always were a greedy lot of short-sighted bastards. They’ve driven all the best young men to Spain; all the better for me!’ For just a moment he flashed the dazzling smile which had no doubt won the hearts of those bright young men. Then the smile faded. ‘But back to the business at hand. They call you the Finder, don’t they? Well, I am a man who has lost something, and I must find it again!’

At night, Sertorius explained, the fawn was kept in a little tent of her own, near the general’s quarters. For religious reasons, the opening of the fawn’s tent was situated to face the rising moon; it had so happened, in this particular camp, that the front of the fawn’s tent faced away from most of the others, and so was not visible to Sertorius’ own night watch. The tent had its own guards, however, a pair of Celts who had vied for the religious honour of protecting Diana’s emissary. These two had apparently been given a powerful drug and had slept the night through. Sertorius was convinced of their tearful remorse at having failed the white fawn, but otherwise had not been able to get any useful information from them.

I asked to see the tent. Sertorius led me there himself. Before we entered, he glanced at Eco.

‘The boy has seen death before?’ he said.

‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

‘It’s not a gory sight – believe me, I’ve seen gore! Still, it’s not pretty to look at.’

He gave no further explanation, but led us into the tent. A little pen had been erected inside, with straw scattered on the ground along with pails of water and fresh grass. There was also, outside the pen, a little sleeping cot, upon which lay the girl we had seen in the general’s entourage the previous day. She was dressed in the same white gown, but the white scarf was no longer around her head, so that her hair lay in a shimmering black pool around her white face. Her legs were straight and her hands were folded on her chest. She might almost have been sleeping, except for the unnatural, waxy paleness of her flesh, and the circle of bruised, chafed skin around her throat.

‘Is this how you found her?’ I asked.

‘No,’ said Sertorius. ‘She was there in front of the pen, lying crumpled on the ground.’

‘Who was she?’

‘Just a girl from one of the Celtic tribes. Their priests said that only a virgin should be allowed to feed and groom the white fawn. This girl volunteered. It brought great honour to her family. Her name was Liria.’

‘Where is her white scarf, the one she wore around her hair?’

‘You
are
observant, Finder. The scarf is missing.’

‘Do you think . . . ?’ I reached towards the marks on her throat. ‘A scarf would be one way of strangling someone.’

Sertorius nodded gravely. ‘She must have tried to stop them. The guards were drugged, which means that Liria should have been drugged as well; she always ate the same food. But last night she may have fasted. She did that sometimes; she claimed that the white fawn would order her to fast, to keep herself pure. When they came to take the fawn, she must have woken up, and they strangled her to keep her from crying out.’

‘But why didn’t they simply kill the fawn, instead of kidnapping her?’

Sertorius sighed. ‘This land is crawling with superstition, Gordianus. Omens and portents are in every breath, and a man can’t take a piss without some god or other looking over his shoulder. I suspect that whoever did this had no intention of murdering anyone. What they wanted, what they intended, was that the fawn should simply disappear, don’t you see? As if she had fled on her own. As if Diana had abruptly deserted me to my fate. What would my Spanish soldiers make of that? Can you understand what a disaster that would be for me, Gordianus?’

He stared at the dead girl, then tore his gaze away and paced back and forth in the small space before the pen. ‘The kidnappers added murder to their crime; that was sacrilege enough, though Liria wasn’t really a priestess, just a girl from a humble family who happened still to be a virgin. But they would never had killed the fawn. That would have defeated their purpose. To kill the emissary of Diana would be an unforgivable atrocity. That would only strengthen the resolve of the tribes to fend off such an impious enemy. That’s why I’m certain the fawn is still alive and unharmed.

‘I’ve tried to keep this quiet, Gordianus, but I think the rumour has already begun to spread among the men that the fawn is missing. The Roman soldiers will suspect the truth, I imagine, that she was kidnapped for political reasons. But the natives – the natives will think that the gods have turned against me.’

‘Is their faith in the white fawn really so great?’

‘Oh, yes! That’s why I’ve used it, as a powerful tool to bind them to me. Powerful, but dangerous; superstition can be turned against the man who uses it, you see. I should have guarded her better!’

‘Do you believe in the white fawn yourself, Sertorius? Does she speak to you?’

He looked at me shrewdly. ‘I’m surprised that you even ask such a question, Gordianus. I’m a Roman general, not a credulous Spaniard. The white fawn is nothing more than a device of statecraft. Must I explain? One day my spies inform me of Pompey’s movements; the next day I announce that the white fawn whispered in my ear that Pompey will be seen in a certain place at a certain time, and, sure enough, he is. Whenever I learn a secret or see into the future, the knowledge comes to me from the white fawn – officially. Whenever I have to give an order that the natives find hard to stomach – such as burning one of their own villages, or putting a popular man to death – I tell them it must be done because the white fawn says so. It makes things much, much easier. And whenever things look uncertain, and the natives are on the verge of losing heart, I tell them that the white fawn has promised me a victory. They find their courage then; they rally, and they make the victory happen.

‘Do you think me blasphemous for resorting to such a device? The best generals have always done such things to shore up their men’s morale. Look at Sulla! Before a battle, he always made sure his troops would catch him mumbling to a little image he stole from the oracle at Delphi; the deity invariably promised him victory. And Marius, too – he kept a Syrian wisewoman in his entourage, who could always be counted on to foresee disaster for his enemies. Too bad she failed him in the end.

‘Even Alexander pulled such tricks. Do you know the story? Once when things looked bleak before a battle, his priests called for a blood sacrifice. While the sheep was being prepared at the altar, Alexander painted the letters N I backwards on the palms of one hand, and K E on the other. The priest cut open the sheep, pulled out the steaming liver and placed it in Alexander’s hands. Alexander turned it over to show his men, and sure enough, there it was, written on the liver in letters no one could mistake – the Greek word for victory!’

‘And your device was the white fawn?’

Sertorius stopped his pacing and looked me in the eye. ‘Here in Spain, the local tribes, especially the Celts, have a special belief in the mystical power of white animals. A good general makes note of such beliefs. When the hunters brought Dianara to me that day—’

‘Dianara?’

Did he look slightly embarrassed? ‘I call the white fawn Dianara, after the goddess. Why not? When they brought her to me, I saw at once what could be done with her. I made her my divine counsellor! And the strategy has paid off handsomely. But now—’